Covergence
by Oy Wilson
Summary: The sequel to Stranger In A Strange Universe. The focus is on the Whoniverse rather than the Buffyverse, if that makes sense.
1. The Stranger Returns

**Disclaimer: We've been through this. I do not own Buffy. I do not own Doctor Who. I make no money from fanfiction. Full stop.**

"That's odd."

The Doctor frowned at the readings on the screen before him, and gave the console a precautionary smack. The display remained unchanged, so he hit it harder. This had no effect on the readouts, but the Tardis creaked in protestation at this unwarranted physical abuse. The Doctor's frown deepened. The ship wasn't playing up, apparently; but the data on his screen was wrong. Very wrong. It had to be. He jabbed at a few buttons and twisted some controls at random. The Tardis sensed his disbelief and flashed up an outside view, as if to justify the claims its scanners were making. The Doctor was confronted with an image of deep space, infinitely black and peppered with the pinpoint lights of stars.

It would have been perfectly normal if not for the great sprawling space-time disturbance at the centre of the image. It resembled a huge mass of fog, gold in colour. Fingers of curling mist shot from it chaotically, and tendrils of white lightning rippled across its surface. Worst of all, it was getting bigger. Before he could alter his course, the disturbance had enveloped the Tardis, Doctor and all, and swallowed them up. The lightning coursing through it intensified, and it began to contract, gaining speed, shrinking until finally it imploded with a blinding flash of white light. Then nothing. The storm was spent. No change had occurred; it was as though the disturbance had never existed. Only one thing indicated that that an event of any kind had happened at all. The Tardis, complete with the last Time Lord, was gone without a trace.

XXXX

The Doctor picked himself up off the floor, just in time to be thrown down again as the Tardis gave a great lurch to the right. He clung to the grille on the floor for a few seconds as his ship rocked and shook, buffeted by the temporal gales at the heart of the storm. Eventually, he heaved himself up onto his knees and by leaning his weight on a nearby strut was able to clamber into a position by which he could see the monitor. It didn't do him any good; the screen showed only a blizzard of static, interrupted sporadically by pixellated scraps of Gallifreyan that flickered across the display incomprehensibly. The turbulence worsened, and the Doctor wrapped both arms around the strut and planted his feet, resigning himself to simply riding out the storm and waiting for the shaking to cease.

And just like that, it did. The crazy rocking was replaced by a profound stillness. Sound and movement stopped altogether as the time rotor fell silent and motionless. The mess on the screen cleared, and the Doctor tentatively released his hold on the strut. He swept over to the console and poked at some controls. Sensible Gallifreyan txt blipped into existence and the Doctor scanned over it quickly. Earth. Early 21st Century. Right. He marched over to the door and stepped out of the Tardis, into the dazzle of the sunlight. After an initial spell of furious blinking, the Doctor found himself looking at an apparently American town, with people milling around the streets shopping or sipping languidly at iced drinks as the chatted under parasols in the forecourts of trendy cafés. He wasn't able to ascertain it from his immediate surroundings, but the Doctor guessed his location to be somewhere coastal. California, maybe. Come to think of it, this town did look very familiar.

Right planet. Right century. But the more he observed, the more he felt a sense of déjà vu as to the streets around him. He knew this town. He had most definitely been here before. It almost looked like…

"Doctor?"

Turning, the Doctor recognised the vaguely timid shape of Willow Rosenberg. Her hair was shorter, ad her posture more confident, but it was undoubtedly Willow. Before she could say another word, the Doctor leapt on her in a bone-crushing hug. After a few seconds, she tapped his shoulder awkwardly, and croaked:

"Okay…oxygen…becoming an issue here."

He released her with a mumbled apology. It was only as they separated that he realised exactly where he was.

Right planet. Right century. Wrong universe.

**A/N: A sequel was requested, and the writer lives to obey the reader(s). I'm not exactly sure where I'm going with this, so any suggestions (within reviews) would be greatly appreciated. Please review either way! **


	2. Four Is Company

**Disclaimer: If I owned Buffy, it would still be on TV. If I owned Doctor Who, giant spiders would never be permitted as villains. Therein is the evidence that I don't own them.**

A week had passed since the Doctor's sudden reappearance in Sunnydale, and having greeted Buffy and the rest of the Scooby Gang, he had spent most of that time in the Tardis, trying to work out exactly what his next move should be. Unlike his first visit to this universe, his ship had survived the journey and was very much alive. Obviously, therefore, the Doctor's immediate course of action should be to try and return to his own timestream.

And therein lay the rub. The Tardis was fully operational; perfectly capable of moving through time and space, but, as the Doctor eventually realised, it was inextricably tied to the universe in which he had landed. For the time being, he was stranded. (Or at least, as stranded as one could be when one had an entire universe and all of time to explore.) The Doctor resolved to do just that – to explore his new surroundings until an opportunity to return to his proper place in the cosmic order presented itself. Not sure where to start, however, he headed back to Sunnydale.

"Once again," he explained, "I'm stuck here. This universe, that is, not this…shop."

He was addressing the entire Hellmouth entourage, seated as they were around a circular table in the Magic Box, which seemed to serve as the headquarters for Buffy and the Slayerettes.

"But it's not all bad," he continued, trying to adopt an optimistic tone. He was pacing slowly before them, running a hand through his mess of thick brown hair. The way they simply stared at him without speaking was beginning to cultivate nervous feelings of awkwardness in his stomach. So he struggled to be brisk and light-hearted, and avoided looking any of them in the eye. "I can go anywhere within it – the Tardis can take me to any point in space-time. Wherever I want. Actually…no. Wherever the _Tardis_ wants, in fact. So, the million-pound question is…does anyone want to come with me?"

At this point his gaze flitted to Willow, whose stormy irises met his own for a moment, then dropped as she lapsed into contemplation. (Seated next to Willow was the boy the Doctor remembered was called Xander. He had been on the verge of raising his hand, not to volunteer to accompany the Doctor, but to enquire as to what exactly a 'pound' was. He wasn't particularly well-versed in British culture, but he eventually figured it out without asking. He saw the Doctor glance at Willow, and thought it best not to disturb the brooding silence that had overtaken the room.)

The Doctor had been informed earlier that Willow's relationship with Oz – the spiky-haired, van-driving boy – had recently fallen through. His decision to look directly at Willow had been wholly deliberate: he was trying to offer her a reprieve from her normal routine, an adventure to help get her back on her feet. Adventures always helped people to forget their losses. Well, the Doctor had always hoped so, anyway. He had plenty of losses to forget.

Willow seemed about to respond when a different voice cut in from the other side of the table.

"Can I?"

The speaker was Doyle, who had sat there silently through the whole meeting, apparently lost in his own thoughts. He had in reality been listening intently to the Doctor's offer. No one was certain precisely what he was doing there. He had been hanging around more and more recently; he seemed reluctant to return to his bar. At first most of the gang had attributed this to Doyle's omnipresent desire to be near Cordelia, but this unexpected request contradicted that entirely. Everyone at the table swivelled in their chairs to look at him when he spoke, and his pale complexion became tinged with a slight blush. The Doctor looked taken aback, but then his features split into his usual grin.

"Don't see why not. A pair of semi-humans on a road-trip across the universe? Could be good fun."

Doyle smiled gratefully. "Just for a while, y'know. See, I need a bit of time off, 'cause --"

"You owe someone money?" piped up Buffy's sister Dawn, in the precocious tone of voice that only young teenagers can truly achieve. Doyle threw her a withering look, then sheepishly allowed his gaze to slip to the floor.

"…Yeah."

The Doctor observed this exchange with a quizzical expression on his face, and then turned his attention back to the group as a whole.

"Anyone else? Willow?"

The forwardness of the question brought Willow out of her reverie. She had obviously been considering her response whilst keeping one ear on the conversation happening around her.

"Well, I don't want to be a third wheel…"

"No; I'd love you to come," the Doctor interrupted with genuine enthusiasm. He grinned reassuringly at her. She returned the smile, vaguely tinted with hesitation.

"Three Musketeers it is, then," the Doctor said cheerily. "All for one and one for…"

His excitement was somewhat dented when he caught sight of a table of people all staring at him as though he'd just coughed up a field-mouse.

"Maybe not."

XXXXX

The next morning, the full Scooby Gang were gathered between the Magic Box and the Doctor's magic box. Willow and Doyle had packed bags, which were now safely stowed in the depths of the Tardis. The Doctor had left the door of the ship open while the three said their goodbyes on the pavement where it had been 'parked.' This took some time; there were a fair few people crowded on the concrete, wanting to wish them farewells. (Even Cordelia had ordained to show up, but both Doyle and Willow knew that this was only because she had nothing better to do.)

Xander and Dawn both became rather tearful at the prospect of Willow's leaving, and the Doctor tried to cheer them up:

"Don't worry – it's a time machine. She'll be back before you even know she's gone."

The words brought a pang of regret to his hearts. He had said almost the exact same thing to Jackie about Rose. But he supposed Jackie _did_ get her daughter back in the end.

It was the Doctor who lost her.

When all of the goodbyes, tearful or otherwise, were finished, the Doctor bustled his new companions into the Tardis and with one final goofy smile at Buffy, he pushed the doors shut behind them with a smart click. The eerie grinding of the time rotor struck out from inside the blue frame of the box, and the assembled Scoobies watched as it began to shift in and out of sight, before eventually disappearing altogether. As Giles headed back into the shop and Buffy, Riley and Dawn began their walk back to the Summers home, Xander voiced to Anya the realisation that no one else had made:

"Hey – where's Cordelia?"

XXXXX

"Allrighty then," the Doctor said jovially, "where does anybody want to go first?"

"To my room, to unpack," Willow replied dryly, and headed toward the door. The Doctor's face fell slightly. The whole of time and space open to her tread, and she wanted to unpack! Doyle shot him a sympathetic half-smile, clapped a comradely hand to his shoulder, and followed Willow's lead. He got about halfway across the console room when a scream rang through it. Two screams, in fact. Doyle and the Doctor dashed to the door in time to meet Cordelia, followed immediately by a flustered-looking Willow.

"Cordelia – what are you doing here?" the Doctor spluttered, slightly incredulous. Doyle said nothing; it appeared he couldn't believe his own good fortune. The perfect escape from his debtors, and a free trip across the universe with the girl of his dreams! Cordelia levelled her gaze with the Doctor's.

"Did you really think I would miss out on this? The chance to _shop_ on other planets? The chance to wear clothes _before_ they're fashionable? You have got to be kidding me."

"But…if you wanted to come, why didn't you just ask?"

Cordelia shrugged. "Stowing away seemed like more fun," she replied matter-of-factly. The Doctor put hand to his forehead, struggling to take all this in. he was trying very hard to comprehend the personality of Cordelia Chase. And he was failing.

"Hey," Cordelia murmured, "this thing is bigger on the inside than it is on the outside!"

The Doctor gripped one of the coral-like pillars that ringed the control room in order to prevent himself from collapsing. It was the second time that week. The way things were going, this was going to be a _very long_ adventure in time and space…

**A/N: I hope you lot don't hate this. Tell me if you do, though, and I'll exterminate it. Of course, I'll be delighted if you like it, so tell me that, too!**


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